Page 65 of Toxic B!tch
His salt-and-pepper hair is neatly combed back, not a strand out of place, like he never lets anything slip through the cracks. His skin is a warm olive tone, smooth for his age, with only the faintest lines at the corners of his dark eyes—eyes that scan me with amusement and calculation, like he’s already three stepsahead. The slight creases around his mouth deepen when he smiles, but there’s no warmth in it. Just another mask.
“You remember me, then?”
Before I can answer, Indigo crosses her arms, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. “How do you know each other?”
Brandon hums, tapping his fingers against the desk. “Well, we’ve only seen each other a handful of times. He remodeled my house.”
My eyes narrow slightly. “You said you worked from home in…”
“Dispatch.” He smirks.
I nod, my expression unreadable. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
Brandon gestures vaguely, like this whole thing is casual business meeting. “The house is fantastic, by the way. You and your crew did an amazing job. I have another property for you to quote.”
I cross my arms. “I’m pretty backed up right now.” And it’s the truth. The burned house has become quite the project.
“Ahh, yeah. Baby, I forgot to tell you when we were being honest.” Indigo turns to me, her voice light, but there’s something underneath it—something dark. “The house you’re working on… I’m the reason it’s burned.”
I blink. “What?”
“Technically, I burned it after she created,” Jake adds casually, like we’re discussing a home renovation instead of a crime scene.
My stomach tightens. “You killed someone there?” My voice is too steady, too controlled, but my mind is racing. “Who? Why? When?”
Indigo tilts her head, considering. “Right before we met? Or maybe it was when we were just texting. I don’t know, but it was a prick from the bar who grabbed me, tried to assault me, and called me a whore.”
Something sharp slices through me. Anger. Helplessness. The knowledge that I wasn’t there to stop it. But that’s the thing about Indigo—she doesn’t need me to stop it. She stops it herself. Permanently.
I force myself to nod, swallowing down the questions piling up. “Okay.”
Brandon claps his hands together, reclaiming the room’s attention. “Enough catch-up. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
Indigo doesn’t hesitate. She takes a seat across from him, her posture relaxed, but I know better. She’s calculating. Weighing options. I drop into the chair beside her, keeping my focus on Brandon.
Jake murmurs, “I’ll leave you to it,” and moves out the door.
I glance at him. He must sense what I’m thinking, because he smirks. “She could take care of herself if it came to it.” Then he shuts the door behind him.
Indigo leans forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “I’m not gonna tiptoe. I like to have creative freedom, and I don’t do innocents. I need hard proof they’re guilty.”
Brandon doesn’t even blink. “Done.”
“I mean it. And I don’t want any rules like ‘I want an arrow to the eye’ or ‘a decapitation.’ My art, my choice.”
His lips twitch. “Done.”
“You cover the cleanups. I’ll schedule it with Jake, but you handle the bill.”
“Done.”
“No kids.”
“Never.”
Indigo tilts her head. “So tell me what you do and why this? Why me?”
“The Chamber is what we call ourselves. An elite group of people with one purpose—rid the world of scum. Specificallyrapists, women-beaters, and child abusers. Sometimes drug lords, but only the worst of the worst. Jail cages them and sets them free. That’s not fixing the problem. We decided to fix it ourselves.”
